


Call off thoughts awhile

by Lleu



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:55:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lleu/pseuds/Lleu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>     <i>Soul, self; come, poor Jackself, I do advise</i><br/>     <i>You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile</i><br/>     <i>Elsewhere</i></p><p>When Alan — <i>Alanna</i>, Jonathan reminded himself — told her story, part of Jon was relieved, and part of him was even more confused than it had been before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call off thoughts awhile

**Author's Note:**

> Title and epigram from Gerard Manley Hopkins's sonnet "My own heart let me more have pity on".

When Alan — _Alanna_ , Jonathan reminded himself — told her story, part of Jon was relieved, and part of him was even more confused than it had been before.

The relief was easy enough to explain, loathe though he would have been to admit the reason for it to anyone, especially Alanna: no-one could fault him now if, sometimes, when he was, ah, enjoying his own company at night, his thoughts turned themselves to her. Of course, it would be inappropriate for a man in his position to _act_ on such thoughts, but to have them was not only excusable but even _understandable_ now, surely.

What troubled him was the question that remained: what of the times _before_? Idle daydreams during lessons, of lazy days on the riverbank and shy smiles. and those less idle fantasies that filled him with shame as soon as he was finished, but which filled his mind anyway as he lay in his bed before sleep. The dreams he woke from in the morning, aching for something he couldn't bring himself to put into words.

Dreams of _Alan_ , not Alanna.

Maybe he'd known, somehow — but even as he thinks it, Jon knows it's a feeble explanation. It's not about Alan — Alanna. It's about _him_.

So he spends the next few months evaluating his own behavior. He remembers an occasion not long before Alan's — _Alanna's_ — arrival, when he'd been caught staring at Alex's naked body while they lounged near the water. He'd laughed it off at the time, and the others had accepted his explanation ("my mind was wandering, I wasn't looking at anything in particular", at which Alex had feigned offense). Now he wonders. Alex is handsome enough, Jonathan supposes. He's never given it much thought before — consciously, anyway.

He dreams of Alanna, now, occasionally, along with various young women of the Court, but also, still, of Alan. He doesn't know if this should trouble him or not.

He kisses another young man, once, during an evening at the Dancing Dove. They're both drunk, and everyone laughs afterwards, including Jon. It's scratchier than he was expecting; neither of them has shaved in a few days. but it's not unpleasant. It's not his first kiss, but it's not his hundredth, either, so he doesn't have a lot to judge it by. He eventually decides it was good. He'd do it again if the opportunity presented itself.

Late one evening after one of the parties that keep the Court amused in the winter, _Raoul_ kisses him. Once he gets over the initial moment of shock, Jon kisses him back.

"What was that for?" Jon asks, when Raoul breaks the kiss.

"Does there have to be a reason?" Raoul asks, grinning at him.

"I suppose not," Jonathan says. He feels slightly lightheaded.

"I enjoy your company, especially on a night as cold and dark as this one." Raoul sounds almost giddy. "And I suspected you might enjoy mine, as well."

"You're drunk, my friend," Jonathan says, smiling. _Raoul kissed me_ , he thinks, still not quite sure he can believe it.

"Only a little," Raoul says, shrugging his broad shoulders. "I know my own mind still."

"And what does your own mind tell you now?" Jon asks, his voice soft.

"That it's only right for me to invite you back to my chambers for another glass of wine," Raoul says, and Jon can _hear_ him winking. " _If_ you're inclined to accept, of course."

"I'd be honored to join you," Jon says. Then he hesitates; what is he doing? "I've never—"

"Jon," Raoul says, his voice suddenly serious, and Jon looks at him. Raoul reaches over to lay a hand on his cheek. "There's no need to be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Jon says, but it's a feeble lie and they both know it.

"There's no shame in it, either," Raouls says, reassuring. "May I...?" Jon nods, and Raoul leans in to kiss him again. It's different this time — softer, despite the stubble on the other young man's face. After another moment, Raoul pulls away. "I would be honored if you would join me in my chambers tonight, for whatever you're comfortable sharing with me."

Jon swallows once, then makes up his mind. "And I would be honored to come with you."

Raoul smiles. For a moment, Jonathan thinks he sees sadness in his friend's eyes, but then it's gone.

"Let us go, then," Raoul says, and leads the way.

When he leaves Raoul's room the next day, he feels...at ease. That's the best way he can think of to describe it: more at ease with himself than he has been in a very long time.

It's a good feeling.


End file.
